You Always Remember Your First

True Story

When was the last time you did something for the first time? For most of us, it has been a long time. But accomplishing something you worked hard for can also be bittersweet. You feel great because you achieved your goal, but also a little nostalgic because it can never be relived once the moment passes.

My wife Claudia and I have an annual tradition of going on a fly fishing trip with our favorite SW Florida guide, Captain Debbie Hanson. We have fished in the Everglades for the last few years, pursuing Peacock bass.

Admittedly, I am way more enthusiastic about this tradition than Claudia is. But we both take seriously our wedding vow of “to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse …”. And, while Claudia loves her time with Captain Debbie, I think overall she’d likely place our annual adventure under the “for worse” category.

Last year, when we went fishing, Claudia ended the day without hooking up with a Peacock bass. Unfortunately, she suffered for weeks from dozens of painful no-see-um bites. Claudia was reluctant to give it another go this year for fear of repeating that experience.

Despite her trepidation, we committed to a date in April when we thought the Peacock bass bite might be turned on. Peacock bass love warm water, and the mild climate of South Florida is perfect for them to swim in all year round. You can target them during any season, but local guides suggest that the period between March and the end of May is the best time to go after them. On paper, the day we picked promised to be productive.

However, Captain Debbie called us the week before our scheduled trip. She let us know the water was unusually high in the Everglades, and the cold front that had recently passed through might make it challenging to catch Peacocks. However, cichlids and other species would still be biting. After weighing the pros and cons, we decided to go but set our expectations for a Peacock bass accordingly.

Fishing in the Everglades requires getting up exceptionally early in the morning. From Fort Myers, it is a 90-minute drive to the meet-up location. Claudia and I typically wake when our bodies say it’s time, so we both awoke every hour on the hour anticipating the alarm. Neither of us got much sleep.

Claudia wore long pants, a long-sleeved shirt, and a buff to help with the no-see-ums this year. She also put on three different insect repellants, including one with Deet. No-see-ums are tiny (about 0.03 inches long, even smaller than fleas), and the blood-sucking gnats are barely visible to the naked eye. They’re actually from a family of biting flies. But unlike their much bigger cousin, you can’t see no-see-ums. Even though you can’t see them, you will feel their bite. These pesky little bugs can inflict significant pain; like mosquitos, only the females bite. They prefer warm weather and love hanging out along coastal areas with water and marshland. Some people call no-see-ums biting gnats, while others call them biting midges, but everyone calls them annoying. The bites are exceptionally painful, and you may not notice them for hours or even days after you have been bit.

As always, the drive to the Everglades starts in the dark. It is impressive to see the sun rise over the flooded grasslands. The Everglades is the largest wetland ecosystem in the United States, covering over 1.5 million acres. Everglades National Park protects more than 350 species of birds, 120 species of trees, and thousands of other plants and animals. Fishing there is a truly unique experience.

Captain Debbie got us on the water around 7:30 a.m. In her Jon Boat, anglers trade-off casting. That way, she can maneuver the boat in a good position for each angler’s casting skill. Claudia cast from a sitting position, while I cast standing with my leg braced against a seat for balance.

We saw a 12-foot-long alligator swimming across the canal in the late morning. It was the largest either of us had ever seen. Alligator mating season starts in May, but the males typically begin courting in June when the temperatures rise. They can be very aggressive during this time, and Captain Debbie is exceptionally wary of these creatures.

From a safe distance, we watched the alligator swim. Then suddenly, we saw it swimming toward a smaller 8-foot-long alligator that had just surfaced in the middle of the canal. Captain Debbie commented, “We are about to witness a National Geographic moment, and the outcome depends on whether the smaller alligator is female or male.” It was decidedly male, and the larger alligator only took about 5 seconds to establish dominance.

A little later, we saw Roseate Spoonbills flying against a bright blue sky. These beautiful birds are declining in number in the broad estuary sandwiched between the Everglades, the Gulf of Mexico, and the Keys. Seeing them in their natural habitat is an unexpected and special treat.

After fishing for about five hours, Claudia had yet to get a single Peacock strike. Captain Debbie changed flies multiple times, but to no avail. Claudia’s casting was remarkably good, the best I had seen her cast. She consistently hit the limestone rock edges where Peacock bass like to hide. However, nobody was coming out to play.

Our only hope was that the sun would continue to warm the water and eventually fire up the Peacock bass. Peacock bass are warm-water ambush predators; they need 75—to 82-degree water. We were racing against the clock to get Claudia her Peacock.

At 1:15 p.m., Claudia put her fly in a perfect position just above a limestone rock ledge. We could see several Peacock bass swimming in the area. She must have thrown over 200 casts over the day, but this one had a unique look.

Captain Debbie told her to give the fly a 10-count and let it sink slowly over the ledge. Claudia patiently waited as the fly dropped in the water column. She counted out loud 7, 8, 9, and, on the count of 10, began to strip the line in as fast as possible. The erratic movement of the fly triggered their primal instinct to jump all over an easy meal, and one attacked it with a fury.

This is the magic moment when the angler determines if the dance begins or is immediately lost. You’ve done the work to trigger the fish, but if you don’t set the hook properly, you will lose it. Fortunately, Claudia executed a perfect strip set and had her Peacock at the end of the line.

Catching my first Peacock was a blast. But watching Claudia catch hers was even better. I thought about her sacrifice, even coming out on the adventure with me. She risked suffering weeks of agony from no-see-um bites. She got up super early in the morning to do something she was marginally interested in doing and made so many casts that her shoulder hurt. But honestly, the smile on her face as she danced with that Peacock bass was priceless.

When Claudia brought the fish to hand, Captain Debbie and I made her hold it for the traditional picture. That was another experience I think Claudia would have preferred to have skipped. But it was her fish, and it was hard won.

They say you always remember your first. I hope Claudia will forever remember that catch. It was her first, and I suspect not her last, Peacock bass. I know I will remember it.

I am looking forward to next year’s Everglades fly-fishing adventure with my favorite angling partner. Maybe next year, the experience will move closer to the “for better” category than the “for worse” category in her mind.

In the meantime, I am getting the picture of Claudia’s first Peacock bass framed and prominently displayed in my home office. I want to preserve the memory of Claudia’s first forever.